A Sisterhood of Secret Ambitions, page 16
Mira startled and then nodded. “It sounds like the greatest adventure ever.”
“Then you do it. And we’ll help. We’ll convince the society to support you. They will understand. We have the power to make changes in our society, and our society has the power to make changes in the world. And if you’re not willing to do that, Greta, then you are the one who is breaking your oaths.”
“Fine.” Greta sniffed. “You go right ahead, Mira. What’s one less in competition for Andrew?”
Mira picked up a hairbrush and started combing her hair. She’d turned away a little, so we couldn’t see her eyes, like something was wrong.
“There’s nothing saying she can’t still have him,” Bea insisted. “We can have dreams and love.”
And that was why I loved her. “Exactly.”
“Except…” Mira closed her eyes and lowered her hairbrush as we turned to her. “I don’t want him.”
I didn’t reply.
Mira looked at me. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve always liked the challenge of it, and I loved all you girls, and when it was Andrew, when I thought I wanted it, that I’d finally met someone who would meet my high standards. I’ve always loved reading romantic stories, and I want this big life, so I thought one day everything would click. I thought that attraction would just come one day. But I don’t want him.”
“How come?” Bea asked.
“I don’t really want anyone like that. I care about people like siblings, but I don’t feel romantic love. You girls always talk about how handsome the men all were, and I guess in a way I could see it aesthetically, but I’ve never really felt attraction.” She gestured with her hands, and her voice grew in volume. “I don’t feel attraction. I don’t have a need to kiss anybody. I fall asleep thinking about engines, not ball gowns or bedrooms. I’m not physically attracted to men or women or anyone.” She swallowed. “I love the society, I love what we do, but even my ambitions aren’t big enough to keep trying to pretend to be someone I’m not. And we know Andrew wants a physical relationship. We know it, and I don’t. I don’t want to fake physical attraction. I don’t want a false life.”
“We won’t make you choose one,” Greta said.
Iris touched her arm. “What you’re saying is more common than you think.”
“It is?”
“Do you think you might be asexual?” I asked. “Or maybe aromantic?”
Mira shook her head. “I’m not a Spinster, though. I’ve always liked boys.”
Iris’s voice was gentle. “I’m a Spinster, and I like boys.”
“That’s different.”
“And so maybe are you.”
Mira’s head kept shaking, she lifted her hand over her lips as she processed.
“There are a lot of people I’d love to introduce you to who feel the same way,” Iris said. “They have amazing lives without romantic love. And some find a romantic connection without physical attraction. And some live happily in platonic relationships. And that’s not even mentioning all my friends outside of the society. There’s a big world out there, and so many more ways to live than we’re told.”
Mira barked out a laugh, or maybe it was a cry. “That knocks my socks off,” she said with emotion. “Asexual. Huh. I need … Can you get me some more information?”
“I have some books you can read,” I said.
Bea threw her arms around her. “We love you, Mira.”
“You’re not broken,” Iris said. She held both of Mira’s hands in hers and leveled down. Mira squeezed her eyes shut.
I put my arm around Mira’s shoulders. “You know I love you, and this is a part of you, so I love this too.”
Mira scrunched up her face, and then she lifted the hairbrush like it was a weapon. “If you girls make me cry I will hit you.”
I laughed. We gave her space. She didn’t always like to be touched.
“I always thought I was the only one,” Mira said after a second.
Iris shook her head. “There are lots of people who feel this way.”
“But I…” She wiped her nose. “I don’t want to train with the Spinsters. I’m not really a fighter.”
“Says the girl who just threatened to hit us with a hairbrush,” Greta inserted.
“I’m a threaten-to-hit-you girl, not an actually-going-to-hit-you girl. There’s a big difference, and you know it.”
“Says the girl who put me in a headlock,” Greta said in the same tone.
Mira lifted one finger, but I didn’t wait for her to get lost in a tangent. My brain was positively humming. “You don’t have to join the Spinsters. There are plenty of queer people in different designations. And besides you know the society could always use help as a mechanic, or a driver.”
Bea nodded. “I’m sure they’d even be willing to send you to school for it.”
“And you’ve got your business idea too.” I grinned.
Her face lit up. “Engines every day and helping women? That sound like my own version of heaven.” As she turned to us, her smile disappeared. “But let’s keep this secret for now.”
“What?” Bea asked.
“Why?” Iris and I asked at the same time.
“I don’t want to leave you. I want to see you all settled and happy, and I’ll do everything in my power to help get you there.”
Greta bit the inside of her cheek. “But you’re not going to claim Andrew or Johnson or even Harper?”
“No, I won’t be taking your men.” Mira made a face.
“When you tell anyone is up to you,” I said.
“Of course it is,” Bea agreed.
“I’d like to keep it to just us for right now,” Mira said. “I want to know all the pieces of this before I let anyone else into this part of me.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Iris said. “It can sometimes take a little while to make sure the labels fit.”
Mira nodded, and it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, or a light added to her eyes. She knew who she was, and what she wanted. And the society I loved would support her.
So maybe I could find a way to get them to support me. Maybe my dreams could matter too.
Maybe it was time for me to open my eyes and figure out what it was that I actually wanted. And then go after it. Because I won’t be going after it alone. “From now on,” I said, “our lives matter as much as theirs do. And our dreams can happen if we support each other. It’s our job to help each other. It’s our job not to stand in each other’s way. So the question I want us asking is not, What dress would Andrew like me best in, or How will this flirtation strategy work, but What is it that I want to do with my one life? What is it that I want for me?”
“Absolutely,” Iris said emphatically as I sat back, tired as I always was after a good speech, and I looked at my friends. Mira’s eyes were shining, and Bea’s gaze was steady. And Iris nodded like she was ready to take up right where I left off.
“The society already supports our identities,” Iris said. “Why not our ambitions?”
“Why does this world belong to the men anyhow?” Mira asked.
“And why are we giving everything to a society that supports men and not us?” Bea whispered.
Greta rolled her eyes again and looked into her hand mirror; then as we sat in silence, the mirror drooped and she met my eye. “Maybe there’s more than one way we can matter. Maybe there is more than one way we can make our families proud.”
For a second, a crest of panic ran up my neck. My words had just convinced my friends to risk something dangerous. If the society didn’t change with us, where would they be? What was I asking them to give up?
The rules had always kept me safe. Small, yes, but safe. The thought of breaking free from them was terrifying.
But maybe it was time we started making our own rules.
I nodded to them all, then I said one more thing.
“And maybe it’s time we stop saying maybe.”
They told me
I would be a shadow
of the statue I would have to build.
But they never questioned if Andrew resented being clay.
Or if the light that warms my shoulders as I build
Makes shadows disappear.
* * *
What if the artist could shine as brightly as the statue?
Or what if we pulled all the statues down
And make every person build themselves.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
They dressed us to go on a date when we were ready to go to war.
Pearls at my neck and dripping from my ears, my curls perfectly placed, my lips bowed. Each of us sitting on kitchen chairs in Mira and Bea’s room as Beauty Makers made us their canvas.
Mrs. Brown was ready first, looking tall and fine in her silks and curls. She cleared her throat, and we looked over.
“Not to put any undue pressure on you for this outing—”
“Because priority one isn’t enough?” Mira interrupted with a grin.
Mrs. Brown was not amused. “But whichever one of you claims the first kiss will become an official suitor. And that girl has just received an invitation from the Matron Circle to have tea next Saturday.”
We erupted into excited chatter. Even the Beauty Makers put up their brushes.
Mrs. Brown sat carefully on Bea’s bed. “The front-runner and I will be invited to speak with the Matron Circle, and if they approve of the match, one of you will begin your mentorship with the line of First Ladies.”
A mentorship. A chance to speak with our future leadership, a chance to speak and have influence, and to make sure the decisions our society makes are based on what is good for the individual as well as the man.
And all we had to do was earn the first kiss.
It had to be me. It had to.
Still, after we’d decided that our lives didn’t have to depend on a man to carry us, it made the pressure of this so much lighter. No one cried. No one stressed if the Beauty Makers chose something we didn’t like to wear, and we didn’t fight when we decided how we were going to balance a flirtation with Johnson and Harper as we each took our turns with Andrew. Tonight the rules were looser; each of us would get a chance to push our relationship as far as possible before someone broke in to steal our own turn. It should feel like a race, or a rumble, but I trusted that we would support one another.
We weren’t fighting for a chance to matter. Not really. Because we all knew that we mattered without a boy to prove it.
We knew our future was ours to claim.
I slipped my grandmother’s hair clips behind my ears while we snacked on Bea’s scones and listened to the music Mira played on the gramophone. Even Greta loaned out her fancy scientific perfume, and as we rubbed our wrists together and then behind our necks, Mira and I both baaed like sheep and then collapsed in a pile of giggles, not worrying about wrinkling our dresses.
Then we stood together in front of the mirror, each of us curled and polished and shining, and each of us looking into our own eyes in the mirror like we were looking at someone worth seeing, not something worth seeing.
When night came, the crescent moon lifted like a spotlight that shone on our bare shoulders. Mrs. Brown and her husband were driving their own car, but before they pulled away she offered the sparkling keys. Mira snagged them in her gloved hands
“I’m driving!”
“It’s a…” Mrs. Brown startled. “Don’t you need to know which car?”
Ha. “Um…” Mira looked at me with wide eyes before she turned and pretended we hadn’t stolen the car already. “I’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” She walked straight to the Duesenberg. “Oh, my sweet beautiful child”—I smacked her arm and she looked over—“that I’ve just met now for the first time.”
“How did it get dirt on the rims?” Mrs. Brown said. “I swear we had it washed.”
I turned away so they wouldn’t see me trying to hold back a snort laugh.
“What a beautiful car,” Mr. Brown said. “Whose is it?”
Greta smiled. “It’s mine of course.” She glanced over as Mira glared. “But I’ll let Mira drive. This once.”
“Ah. Well. Good. Do you need directions?” Mr. Brown said, as if we hadn’t made the plans ourselves.
“We’ll follow you,” Mira said. Mr. and Mrs. Brown walked to their own car with their hands clasped gently. They both looked so fine in their finest clothes. And despite the lies we kept from him, they seemed so well suited and happy with each other.
I glanced back at the large house. This life the society was trying to give me was a good one. I think I’d be happy if Andrew chose me. It wasn’t just the life or the power I could get with him. Love stories were magical, and while I’d not seen a happy marriage in my own home, I couldn’t help but think of all the weddings I’d attended, and the smiles of my friends. Andrew was a good man. He was smart and kind and genuinely caring. Winning his love wouldn’t be a bad thing, I know it wouldn’t. This might be my happily ever after. If only I knew if I could fall in love with him. One touch of a hand wasn’t a good test to see if we had sparks. Maybe without the pressure of needing to win this, I could test whether I wanted it. Tonight I could really test us as a couple. If I could just get Andrew to kiss me, then everything would be clear. And then I’d earn that meeting with the Matron Circle.
Maybe belonging to that circle of powerful women was my new dream. Maybe that and real love would be enough for me.
It was definitely a safer goal than the thought that kept whispering in my ear.
That maybe the name on that future ballot could be mine …
Mira turned to me. “How would you feel if we took the top down?”
“You’ll—you’ll mess up Bea’s hair,” Greta spluttered, finally realizing what tactic to take to influence Mira’s opinions, though I’m sure the only hair she was concerned about was her own perfect corkscrew waves.
“We’ll take it down on the way home,” I said, mollifying Mira. “It’ll be so nice after we’ve sweat off all this makeup.”
“It might get chilly,” Iris said as she slipped into the back seat, her dress sparkling and full of fringe and her eyes perfectly shaded. She looked stunning, and I couldn’t help but notice that one of the Beauty Makers had spent a considerable amount of his attention on her. “I don’t want anyone to get sick.”
“At least one of us will be warm from a kiss,” Bea said. Her painted red lips curled into a smile. We grew quiet. As much as we were united now, we also were pretty competitive, and it was like Bea’s words had signaled the start of our favorite sport. While we knew we would survive not winning, I know each of us would still do our best to snag that kiss first.
“It might be me,” Iris said. “That Harper fellow is quite handsome.”
Mira started giving Iris tips on how to charm Harper, but while she talked, I glanced between Greta and Bea. Greta’s arched eyebrows marked her scheming face, and Bea let out a little sigh as she glanced down at the shawl the Beauty Makers had insisted we both wear to cover our large arms.
“You look lovely,” I said. And it was true; her dress was well cut and a gorgeous golden color, her long hair was curled into a loose ponytail that hung over one shoulder. I pulled the hair clips from my hair and slid them behind Bea’s ears. She tried to protest but Mira started the engine and I turned away.
We followed Mrs. Brown’s car like a carriage leading them to a ball, and not a charity dinner, driving far out of the town limits, down freeways and into the city proper. Massive geometric buildings cut towering figures looming over the road, but in the distance it looked like the stars had landed in bright clusters, the city alive and sparkling and ours.
The party was to be held in the ballroom of a glittering hotel. The Duesenberg drew eyes and gasps when it parked in front of the entrance. Greta and Mira got out; I watched them with awe that felt so separate from me. Greta’s drop waist and glittering headpiece made an actress of her, and Mira too in plunging lace, dark lips, and a slit dress that made her long legs go on forever.
Bea made a small sad sound. “Do you ever miss something before it’s gone?”
I took her hand in mine. And then Iris opened that back door. It was our turn to share the spotlight.
We followed as fast as we could without running, though my heart had begun to pound as the five of us entered the hotel lobby. Gold gilt framed the marble floors, brass lights flickered, leaving the feel of fantasy and magic, and the tall gilded doors opened for us. And the belles of the ball, the girls all eyes turned to as we entered the ballroom, were my dearest friends. We were like princesses. Bea’s hair was bright and curled at her neck, her skin gently painted with life. She looked made of oil paints, like an artist’s best muse stepping from out of the canvas. Iris walked confidently, gorgeously, the fringe on her dress swaying with each step. And I felt just as beautiful, just as powerfully made up, the volume of my beauty turned to blasting.
I was proud to walk beside them all as I eyed the reaction of the well-dressed crowd sitting at tables or circled into groups. We were a force, the five of us, each done up in our scarf dresses and curls, pearls tracing my hairline, my jeweled dress twinkling like a wind chime.
But Bea’s words nestled into my bones. And I knew this was the last night of us. My friends. After Andrew chose the front-runner, everything would be different. We’d still be friends, but one of us would be settled on our way, and we would never have tonight again.
The rest of the room was filled with powerful men in tuxes and tails and women in their best, who turned and watched us cross to the center of the room behind Mrs. Brown. I spied two Wives from our original group, and it was so good to see them all looking so well. Nora was large with child, sitting with her husband the future ambassador. Her silver dress glowed against her dark brown skin, and she was surrounded by several nosy women who kept asking about her due date, and what names she’d give her child. If the five of us were princesses, then Nora was a queen, happy and magnanimous as she glanced our way and waved her hand, big and welcoming. She scrunched her nose at me when our eyes met. I’d missed her. She had such a way with science and biology, and such dreams too, of moving to New York, to Harlem. I was glad she found her match and that they’d made their way to the city. And her husband, Mr. Livingston, looking so dapper in his tux, tall and Black and handsome. When he spied us he averted his eyes when they landed on me.
